Captivating Dorian
by littlelizabeth
Summary: Daughter of a peasant and a French guardsman, Nicolette deCorvo tends the local pub with the people who took her in after her mother's death. Constantly put to shame due to her conflicted family background, she promises to avenge her mother and hunt her father down. One day after her shift at the pub, a man forces his way with her.. until a blue hooded man comes to her rescue.
1. Chapter 1

**My first attempt at a story in over a year. :P Sorry for the translation mistakes! Unfortunately, I don't speak French so all the phrases and words in French are either from Google translate or from websites claiming that that's how you say them. If any of you guys see a mistake in my translation, pm me and I'll gladly change it!**

**This story is inspired by the upcoming Assassin's Creed Unity. ** ** I couldn't wait and just had to write a story about it. I mean, just look at Arno! I'm already head-over-heels for him, and the game isn't even out yet! Also, forgive me if there are any mistakes with my timing, events or people throughout the story. I only have some knowledge of the French Revolution from taking a European History class the past year (and it wasn't my best class..), but that can't stop me from writing! ** **Like the translations, pm me if I have put in incorrect information in my story.**

**That's it from me! Hope you like it!**

***I DO NOT CLAIM TO OR OWN THE ASSASSIN'S CREED SERIES***

"Would that be all, monsieur?"

"Unless I can add you to my feast, that'd be it for now beautiful." the obviously drunken man says, a smirk crawling into the smug face of his. Unamused, I rolled my eyes as I slip my small notepad and pencil back into the pocket of my almost worn out apron before turning to walk to the direction of the kitchen.

Seeing Margaret busy preparing another table's order, I left the piece of paper on the counter next to the few that were already there. "And just like that, another one's at table six. Busy day today I suppose," I say to her. Sighing, she looks out of the only window in the room, a stern look on her face as she finishes preparing the fourth soupe à l'oignon today. Hearing the back door creek, we turn our heads towards an embarrassed Cynthia, who obviously was hoping to not catch our attention as she entered the room. Upon seeing her return, Margaret throws her hands in the air in frustration. "Où diable avez-vous été?! (Where the hell have you been?!) Your break ended almost an hour ago!"

Cynthia's cheeks were beginning to turn red in color as she racked her brain for another poor excuse. As usual. "Désolé (I'm sorry), Margaret. Maman (Mama) needed me to fetch vegetables on the way back to bring home later for tonight's dinner." _This woman.. really._ I immediately turned away from her, rolling my eyes as I grabbed the nearest piece of paper containing one of the tables' order and began to prepare everything on the list. _An awful liar she is. Vegetables for her mother, she claims; yet she has showed up empty handed!_ I could tell Margaret noticed the same thing, as she turned away from Cynthia and continued her work, clearly annoyed. "Whatever the real reason is, it doesn't matter now. What matters now is that you are here where you were** supposed **to have been an hour ago, and we need all the help we can get to feed those hungry, waiting men outside." She places a tray containing the 3rd table's order in front of her, before looking her dead in the eyes. "Donc s'y rendre! (So get to it!)"

Not wanting to push Margaret more on the edge, I could see Cynthia at the corner of my eye hurrying to tie her apron around her waist before carrying the tray ever so carefully out to the waiting men of table nombre trios (number three). A few moments later, we hear cheering and hollars in the other room, probably from the starving men who was finally blessed with their order. "That'll be the last le plat froid I'll be preparing in a while," Margaret mumbles as she wipes her sweating forehead with her arm. I glance at her as I generously sprinkle a bit of ginger on the platter I was cooking up. "How come?" Margaret lifted up her cutting board and glides the cut up chicken breasts into a pan. "We're getting low on vegetables. Everyone is. Plus the price for what's left is rising by the minute. The last time I spoke with Alfonse, he was selling carottes (carrots) for six assignats (currency during the FR) each! Six assignats for a carrot, Nicolette! C'est ridicule! (It's ridiculous!)" Moving the pan to the stove, she continues, "A simple meal here at the bistrot (pub) is six assignats. Might as well give the men a carrot for their money."

I snickered, pushing my brown 'a little too long to be bangs' strands of hair to the sides of my face, "We should ask Cynthia how much she bought her vegetables for. Or lack of, that is." Margaret shakes her head, sighing as a small smile appears on her barely wrinkled face. For someone in their early fifties, Margaret still manages to keep up her young image. "I'm glad someone cares enough to help me around. God knows how long I'd take if it were just me tending the place," she turns to me, beaming as if she had just won the grand prize at the carnival. "Merci (Thank you), Nicolette."

Grinning, I walked over to the other side of the kitchen as I set my platter on the tray before heading out into the other room. "I should be the one to thank you. You've given me a chance to prove there was more to me than my name."

Before Margaret, I was Nicolette Renae deCorvo, the known orphan living in the streets of Paris. My mother, Mia deCorvo had unwittingly fallen for a French guardsman, who, in a drunken stupor, helped in my conceiving. My mother and I were unwanted, casted away by him like we were merely leftovers for swine. Everyone knew what happened to us, but once the riots began to start more frequently, the few that pitied us put us to shame. They saw my mother as a traitor for birthing a child of the enemy, and I was seen as a disgrace. We were often targeted on the streets, men and women both spoke of our rejected mother and daughter duo. Pretty soon we were evicted from our small home due to our inability to pay rent after mom was let go at the seamstresses'. At age seven, mother and I lived on the streets, finding shelter where we can and food where people discarded them.

That's where we met Margaret. She took us in, fed us, gave us shelter and warmth. She was our miracle, our light in the darkness that seemed to roam forever and beyond. When I was younger, I would call Margaret mama ange (angel). Margaret became the mother my mama never knew and the grandmother I never had.

After almost two years living on the streets, our lives were finally taking a toll on the good side… that is, until mama got sick a couple months before my tenth birthday later. Chicken pox swept over the city, dragging many down with the illness, including my mother. Her fever refused to die down, and you could hear her continuous coughing throughout the nights. With each passing day, my mother's skin became redder and itchier. As much as Margaret and I tried, we couldn't find a doctor willing to treat her. They either heard about our reputation, lacked the medicine to help or have been consumed with the growing plague as well.

I felt helpless and angry at myself because I could do nothing to help and protect my mother from the people's cruel abuse and at them for hurting her, but especially angry at my no good father. How dare he?! How can someone be so heartless to leave behind his child and the mother of! When mama took her last breathe on one of the coldest days in January, I vowed to find the man who broke my mother's heart. Who broke both of ours. And end him.

"Here you are." I said as I carefully placed the platter in front of the man. As I did so, I felt him slip something in the pocket of my apron. Confused, I pulled out the twenty assignats that he slipped in, before feeling a hand creep around my waist, forcing me to sit on the lap of the said man. I immediently tried to push away and off him with no luck as his hands were firmly grasping my waist. "Let go of me, you pig." I heard him chuckle by my ear, the scent of alcohol clearly there. "I didn't give you a twenty for nothing, sweetheart. How about I finish my meal here," I felt his free hand slip under my dress and slowly slide up my leg, "and I can have you for dessert?"

Horrified, I elbow the man hard on the chest causing him to retreat his hands away from me. "Stay away, or I'll give you a black eye for your twenty." I threatened him, backing away. Turning around to head to the kitchen, I catch the gaze of a blue hooded man at the table next to. _Great. More people._ _Today just doesn't seem like it would end anytime soon._ "I'll get to you in a minute, monsieur." I tell him as I exit the room. I placed the tray back on its place in the kitchen, disgust clearly shown on my face. Margaret could obviously see it, as she asks me what's wrong. "Just some drunken idiot again." I tell her, "there's a new one at table seven."

"I'll handle it." I turn my head towards the back door, where in entered Emily. A smile crept on my face as I went over to embrace her. She gladly returned it with her own toothy smile as she hugged me tight. "You can take leave now, Colette. I'm here for my shift." Emily was Margaret's granddaughter and a very close friend of mine. When mama died, Emily stayed by my side through it all along with Margaret. She too, lost her mother months before mine. I guess that's what brought us together in the end. "Merci, Em." I thanked her. She was fixing her short, naturally red hair in a quick up-do before tying her apron around her waist. As much as I loved spending time with Margaret as well as her, spending almost nine hours in the same room was driving me insane. "Do you need anything from the market, Margaret?" I asked as I hung my apron on my designated hook, letting my chocolate brown hair flow past my shoulders after having it pinned up for so many hours. "Carrots, if you find a kind soul selling for less than six assignats," she smiles warily at me, "two onions and radish."

I nodded as I walked out the back door, giving them a "see you all later" as I would be meeting them later on at home.


	2. Chapter 2

I stepped out into the cold and bitter January air, wrapping my mother's old shawl around my upper torso as I attempted to keep my body warm. How I managed to get through the past month with such a thin layer of clothing as the only barrier between the dropping temperatures and I, I wasn't quite sure. My body shivers involuntarily as the shawl itself isn't enough to keep the cold at bay. Thank God the house was only a few blocks away with the shortcut I knew. And with that, I started my walk home.

My shortcut consisted of going through the back alleyways leading to our small but cozy apartment building. It was easier that way, since there wasn't anyone to disrupt my walk back. Plus with the riots starting whenever and wherever, it was safer to keep my distance.

I hurried home, not wanting to spend any more time than I need to out in the cold. I could feel my cheeks and my nose starting to heat up as Jack Frost nips at them. I sharply exhaled, seeing my breath come out as a cloud of vapor when I suddenly heard something crunch behind me. I immediately turned around to check on what or who it was. _Nothing._ Not giving it a second thought, I continued my way home.

Almost a block later, I heard distant footsteps behind me. I turned around again, taking time to check my surroundings as I was now aware I was being followed. I stopped right behind the blacksmith's shop, which was closed for today. Grabbing my shawl tightly in the palm of my hand, I slowly walked over to the large boxes and barrels I had previously passed by near the shop's backdoor. As I neared the wooden crates, I felt a firm hand grasp my left shoulder, and was forced to turn around to face the same man from the pub.

"Hello, sweetheart." He whispered a little too closely to my face. I turned my face away, disgusted by the stench of alcohol in his breath. "Get your hands off me!" I tried to push his face away to no avail as he grabbed my hands in his tightly until it hurt. He then pushed me hard against the wall. I gasped abrubtly as my head made contact with the hard wall, causing my vision to blur slightly. I was trapped. He towered over my small frame easily while the stone wall prevented me from going anywhere. "P-please," I managed to mumble out, begging him, "don't do this."

A sly smirk appeared on his face as he simply rested his head on the crook of my neck, breathing in my scent "Don't fret, love. It won't take long," he said before starting to plant wet and sloppy kisses up my neck to my jawline. I felt my body tense up, not knowing what to do. My eyesight began to fog up as tears threaten to spill out. His hand fumbled with the buttons of the square neckline of my dress, trying to pry them open before gripping and ripping the material. I was speechless and scared, paralyzed in my own body. I closed my eyes and turned my head away from him. _Please, God. Don't let him do this to me._

Out of nowhere, I feel the man's body lifted off mine before hearing the wooden crates break a second later. I opened my eyes to the back of a familiar blue hood standing protectively in front of me, putting distance between the man, who was now lying on the pile of broken crates, and myself. "Who do you think you a-" the man attempted to get out before my savior pulled him up by his collar with just his one hand. I saw the other hand come up just as a blade retracts from underneath his sleeve. My eyes widened, not believing the scene playing out in front of me. Apparently, neither did the man, as he continued to babble on much faster now. "S'il vous plait (Please), don-don't kill me! I have money to give!" He begged, hoping, praying the blue hooded man would spare him. Instead, I saw him turn to glance at me under his beaked hood, as if asking me to decide his fate. I gladly obliged, but not in the way he wanted.

I walked over to the both of them as calmly as I could, before swinging my fist back and punching that disgusting man square on his jaw, knocking him unconscious. Surprised by my choice of action, the hooded man simply dropped the man on the alley floor as if he were just trash that needed to be taken out. My knuckles ached, knowing that I used as much strength as I could in that punch but I wasn't going to let him know that. I discreetly tried to hide my throbbing hand behind my back, but before I could, the hooded man reaches for my hand, checking for any signs of damage.

"That was a good swing," he said as he continued to inspect my fingers one by one, "perhaps too good. You're starting to bruise." I looked over at my hand, which he was gently caressing in his with his thumb. I felt my cheeks start to blush, but he was right. The base of my fingers were starting to turn a shade of purple as the aftermaths of my aggressiveness begins to show. I shrugged as casually as I could, wanting to give the impression that it was something I was used to. "I guess my anger got the best of me." I said coolly. The man turned to look at me and I realized that he was the man I last saw at the pub earlier on. I was about to point that out to him, when the back of my head started to feel like it was throbbing. It hurt, and it felt like I could hear it just pounding at my brain. The saw the man's lips move as he spoke, but I couldn't clearly hear the words coming out of his mouth.

I felt my knees grow weak and the man's hold on my hand tighten as he realized I was about to fall. His hands reach underneath me as if to steady me, but to no use. I grew weary, my eyelids about to close.

The last thing I heard was the man's distant voice calling out to me.


	3. Chapter 3

I woke up to the familiar sight of my bedroom. The pale and peeling green wallpaper have always made me feel at ease, as well as the old birch table across my bed where I have spent hours a day drawing and sketching to my heart's content. I was back at home, but how did I even get here?

I slowly tried to sit up, my neck still a bit sore from the previous day. _Day? How long was I even out for?_ As if on cue, I heard my door open to a worn out Emily, whose face immediately brightens at the sight of me awake. "Colette!" she says excitedly as she rushed over to my side, trapping me in her tight embrace. I winced in pain, causing her to quickly let go. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself." I smiled warmly at her. "It's fine." I tell her, before the events of my walk back home suddenly rush in my head. "How'd I get here?" I asked her. Confusion clear on her face, she looks at me. "What do you mean? You were lying here when we got home! If someone should be asking questions, it should be me! What on earth happened to you?!" I could sense the worry in her voice.

I sighed, knowing that this was going to sound unbelievable to her. I wouldn't have believed it myself if it weren't for the fact that it happened to me. "I took the shortcut on the way home, and someone had followed me. It was one of the drunken men from the pub earlier that day. The bastard slipped me twenty assignats for me to give him a good time." From the corner of my eye, I saw her hand ball up into a fist. "I insulted him in front of everyone, which I guess infuriated him even more than when I rejected him the first time. He tried to have his way with me, pushed me against the wall and everything. And then a man in a blue hood showed up and helped me out. I ended up punching that pig hard and knocked him unconscious," I chuckled at the thought.

Emily didn't seem to be as amused as I was. "Nicolette! You were asleep for three days! Margaret began to worry after you wouldn't wake up the next day. We had the doctor down the block check on you. That's when he pointed out the bump on the back of your head and said you could possibly be in a coma from how hard your head was hit! We were all so worried.." she said as tears started to slowly fall down her face.

I gently wiped them away with my thumb. "I'm still here," I tell her, giving her a small smile, "and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon." And with that, she throws her hands up in the air and embraces me a second time that day. This time, I simply ignored the pain.

"But how did you get home?" She asks me, still having her arms around me. I gently moved away, unsure to the answer to that question myself. "I'm not really sure.." I tell her. "I blacked out while I was in the alleyway. Last thing I saw was the man with the blue hood." I turned to her, "He was at the pub when you first came in and before I left. Didn't you see him?" She simply shook her head. "I didn't see a blue hooded man anywhere. Which reminds me, there wasn't anyone at that table you told me about!"

"What? But.. he was the one sitting there." She shrugs, "Probably changed his mind about eating there. Good call too."

* * *

When Margaret got home late that day, she broke down into tears of both joy and relief. "Thank heavens you're alright," she says to me that night as she gently combs her fingers through my hair. She was sitting on the edge of my bed while I sat in front of her on the floor. As I child, I loved it when Margaret would play with my hair. It was always fun and exciting to see the resulting hairstyle I'd have after she was done with it. In fact, I still do. A smile slowly appears on my face as I close my eyes, letting her do her magic.

I felt her fingers slowly French braid my side bangs to either sides of my face before securing them with a hair pin behind my ears. "There," she says as she finishes. She then picks up a small wooden handheld mirror and holds it in front of me as I examine my hair. "I love it!" I tell her, my grin widening. She smiles back down at me, "You're looking more and more like your mother everyday both in the inside and out," she says, getting up to put the mirror back down on top of my small wooden drawer, "and that is the biggest compliment I can ever give you."

I look back into the mirror as I study my own face. I had an olive skin tone and long eyelashes that surrounded my dark green eyes, all from my mother, as well my hair, which hung past my shoulders. My mother also passed down her thin lips and small dimples onto me, which appears when I smile. I was definitely a near spitting image of my mama, except for my small almost elf-like ears, which she once told I inherited from my father. I hated them. Just knowing that I had something of him always angered me. "It's okay," mama would always say, "I've always loved your father's ears." She would chuckle and tell me how unique it was. I never really got how she could still love him after all the damage and hurt he's caused us. My mother was the kindest woman I've ever known. She wouldn't dare hurt a fly; much less despise the man who left her to fend for her own and their child. As much as I could physically be similar to mama, I guess I could never be like her morally.

Kissing my forehead, Margaret tells me "goodnight" before she leaves my room, leaving me alone to my thoughts. I got up from my bed, walking over to my desk. I lit the small candle that sat on the corner of the table, grabbing pencil and some paper and letting my thoughts wander. It felt damn impossible to fall asleep with the questions running around in my head. I didn't know what became of the man who tried to exploit me, but I pray that I never see that bastard again. Then there's my blue hooded savior. Without realizing it, I began drawing the outline of his beaked hood, shading in certain parts while not putting in much detail in his face as I didn't really get a good visual of it. "I never did get to thank him for saving me, or even getting his name."

"You're welcome."

I almost fell backwards on my already worn out chair as I realized I wasn't alone in my room. I quickly regained my balance before turning around to face the man that had been in my mind the whole day. His hood was on, casting a shadow over a part of his face. "Y-you.." I stuttered as I was caught off my guard. "Arno," he replies, "my name is Arno Victor Dorian."

"Arno..," I repeated after him. His name flowed smoothly out of my lips. I smile up at him. "Thank you for coming to my rescue. I'm Nicolet-" "Nicolette Renae Lutant." he finishes for me. My eyes widened at him. _How did he know my name? My father's last name as well._ I never considered it as my own though. Personally, I feel like I shouldn't need to. He wasn't in any part of my life, so there wasn't a need for me to carry a part of him. I simply shook my head at him. "That's not my name, Arno Dorian." I don't think it was best for me to be on first name basis with him just yet. I barely know the man and he already knows so much about me. I felt a wave of uneasiness wash over me.

Arno's head tilted slightly with confusion as he stepped in closer to me. "Are you not Général Lutant's daughter?" _How.._ "How do you know of me?" I ask, my voice shaking a little. I got up, trying to clam my nerves and walked over to my window, which was wide open. I guess I was too focused on my thoughts to hear him come in. Closing it, I turned back to him. "So you are who I believe you are," Arno let out a sigh of relief. "What do you mean, who I am?" "You are Emilio Lutant and Mia deCorvo's daughter. I am in need your help. Do you know of your father's current whereabouts?"

"I am no help to you, Arno Dorian. My father is as good dead to me. I haven't even met the man, nor do I know what he looks like." I turned away from him to look out the window. The last part was a lie. I knew what my father looks like. I've seen him once or twice with his army men when they scout the city. That doesn't mean anything though. Besides, who is this man anyway?

I felt Arno quietly stand next to me. I was so lost in thought_. What could he possibly want with my father anyway? Were people still talking about my mother and father? It's been twenty years! People were so reluctant to let go._

The silence between us felt like it could last forever. "Do you have any ways of locating him?" He tried again, breaking the silence between us. I shook my head. "I don't know anything about the man, nor do I want to," I look over at him. "Besides, I have not a clue who you are. Even if I were to know, what makes you so sure that I'd willingly tell you?" I was stepping over the line, challenging him. I knew that. But I really couldn't help myself. This man.. as mysterious as he was.. it was almost intriguing to me. I saw him smirk through my moonlit room as he suddenly grabbed me, positioning us so that he's holding me from the small of my back, my head a few inches dangling outside my window. If he were to let go of me, I would surely fall head first. I gasped, holding onto him without thinking. _Is he mad?!_

I looked up to his face under the hood, seeing his face in detail for the first time since we "met." His hazel eyes pierced my green ones, mesmerizing me. He had a light stubble along his jaw line, which twitched up as his smirk was still firmly planted on his face. To sum it up in four words: he was devilishly handsome.

I had almost forgotten the situation I was in with him, as I lost focus on all but the way he looked down at me. I was oblivious of the hand that had crept up near my neck, as the familiar blade hidden underneath his sleeve slides out smoothly, grazing against my skin. "You would have," he says, "or I would be forced to kill you."

* * *

**Hello everyone! Thanks so much for the reviews, favorites, follows and suggestions! :)**

**I'll try to update every 1-4 days, as I'm really excited to write this story.**

**I won't be able to post until Monday or Tuesday maybe, since I'll be away for the weekend without internet. :(**

**But that doesn't mean I won't be writing while I'm gone! So hope for a 2 chapter update in a few days. :)**

**That's it from me today! Enjoy the late update! :)**

**- K**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wanted to try writing in Arno's side of the previous chapters.** :)

**Sorry for the wait! I literally had just gotten home about an hour ago.** :P

**Enjoy another late update!**

**- K**

* * *

ARNO'S POV:

"Nicolette Renae Lutant," Benjamin says as he hands me a small piece of paper with the woman's name, her address, and her work place written on it. "Are you sure this is her?" I asked him. He nodded, "I had asked many of the townspeople, and they all gave me the same name. However, a few told me that she instead goes by the last name deCorvo, as it was her mother's before her passing." I moved my hands up to lift my hood over my head. As I was about to head out, Benjamin stops me once again. "I don't think I should remind you of the importance of this mission, Arno. The mission is above all. If needed be, grant the woman her demise." I pushed that thought away, not wanting to think about the possibility of making that thought a reality. I simply nodded at him before continuing my way. It was unfamiliar to me, having a woman as my target. I just hope this Nicolette woman gives me no reason to have to force the information out from her. I was not that kind of man, and nor do I intend to be.

I turned the corner to right before seeing Le Cafè de Mia where, according to Benjamin, the woman works her days. Opening the door, I was greeted by a group of cheering men, clanking their tankards no doubt filled with either rhum or beer as a flushed face woman handed out their platters. She looks up to meet my gaze and, after finishing up on her current table, heads over to me. She leads me to a vacant table. "Please wait a moment monsieur. One of us will tend to you soon," she says before heading to the kitchen through small shutters-like doors.

As she goes in, another woman walks out holding a platter perfectly balanced in her right hand as her left hand held a tankard, its contents slightly spilled as she made her way to the man sitting on the table to my right. Olive skin and dark brown hair fixed in a bun, she matched the physical description Benjamin had told me earlier.

"Here you are," she says as she carefully placed the man's platter and tankard in front of him. While she did so, I saw him slip his hand in the pocket of her apron. I could tell she noticed too as she stepped away from him, reaching inside the little pocket before pulling out twenty assignats. I looked back at the man, studying his face when he suddenly pulls Nicolette down into his lap. She struggled to get off him but his hands remained unmoved on her waist.

"Let go of me, you pig," she says to him to which he moves in closer to whisper something in her ear. I saw her face cringed and her eyes flicker with fear when I noticed something moving from underneath the ends of her dress. When it started to move upwards, no doubt towards the delicate spot between her legs, I realized what the man was doing.

That bastard! As I was about to stand up and make my way to them, the woman, who somehow managed to free her left arm from his grip, elbowed the man hard. I heard a sharp exhale of breath coming from him as he reluctantly let her go. "Stay away or I'll give you a black eye for your twenty." Her voice was laced with venom as she threatened him.

I snickered, amused at the scene playing out in front of me. Out of nowhere, she turns to look at me. I felt my breath get caught in my throat as her piercing dark green eyes looked into my hazel ones. I was certain she couldn't see me under my hood, but if she could, she would gaze upon the face of a stunned man; stunned by the beauty that stood a distant in front of me. It felt like time was slowing down as I took in her features. Shorter strands of brown hair framed her heart shaped face and long eyelashes surround her captivating eyes. She was simply breathtaking.

"I'll get to you in a minute, monsieur," she says to me before making her way back to the kitchen. Her voice was angelic, and I found myself wanting to hear her voice say the syllables of my name when I suddenly remembered why I was here in the first place. I shook my head, trying to bring myself back to reality. The mission is above all.

It felt like centuries were passing by, waiting for Nicolette to come back out of the kitchen. I killed time by simply scanning the room I was in. The woman I saw when I first came in was sitting down and conversing with a man sitting by himself. She was laughing a little too loudly and occasionally touching his forearm when kitchen doors opened once again to reveal a redheaded maiden, who gave the other woman a stern look, causing her to quickly get up from her seat and continue tending the costumers.

I chuckled quietly to myself, when suddenly the man on my right hurries to stand up, his gaze set on the window. Following it, I raised an eyebrow when I see Nicolette passing by with a shawl wrapped around her body. I turned my eyes back to the man to find him halfway out the door, a few coins at the table where he ate. I have a bad feeling about this, I thought to myself as I followed him out of the cafe.

Outside, I hid among the people that stopped for a chat in front of the cafe. My gaze was set on the man, curious as to what he was planning. I had a gut feeling, but I hoped to God it wasn't what I think it is. He was taking in his surroundings, obviously searching, before catching Nicolette's figure again. He waited until he was surely out of her sight before following her into the alleyway. It didn't take an idiot to realize what he was planning to do, and sure enough, I was a few feet behind him, tailing him from the rooftops.

* * *

It had been a few days since my encounter with the man and Nicolette in the alleyway. After she suddenly fainted, I was uncertain on what to do. I had come here to retrieve information from her, and this was the last thing I had expected to happen. Juggling my options, I decided that it'd be best to take her home. I didn't bother with the man. My blood boils just at the thought of what could've happened if I wasn't there to stop him. I simply left him lying against the blacksmith's shop's back door, not caring whether he was still alive or not.

I took care climbing up, jumping to, and scaling down buildings, not wanting to hurt the unconscious woman in my arms even more. As much as I would tell myself that I only cared about her well being for the sake of the mission, I knew deep down that it wasn't just that. I genuinely hoped that she was alright. I looked down at the limp body in my arms. Her face was beginning to pale and her forehead was starting to heat up. Her eyes were shut and her lips were slightly parted. If it wasn't for the rhythmic up and down movements of her chest, you would think she was dead at first glance. I would occasionally stop to check on her, which was why it took longer for me to get her home.

I easily got into one of the bedrooms on the second floor through an unlocked window. Placing her carefully on an empty bed, I felt her forehead again. Her fever seemed to have gone up. Not wasting any more time, I quickly located the washroom. Grabbing the nearest _and cleanest _washcloth within my reach, I wet it thoroughly before returning to Nicolette's side. I gently pushed away stray strands of hair before placing the cool and damp washcloth on her forehead. And then, I waited.

I remained seated on a wooden chair by her bedside for hours, occasionally checking on the washcloth and wetting it again whenever it heats up from her fever. Without any ill intentions, I also unbuttoned the top of her dress to lessen the constriction around her torso. After a while, her fever finally starts to die down and the rosy color that was once there appears on her cheeks again. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing that she'd be okay from here on.

As I was about to wash the cloth one last time, I heard the front door downstairs open. Leaving the damp yet warm washcloth where I originally found it, I quietly pushed the chair back to the wooden desk before jumping out the window. I grabbed onto the neighboring building's ledge, pulling myself up as I used the darkness of the sky to shadow myself from the view of the redheaded woman I had seen at the cafe earlier that day. She went over to tuck the thin blankets around Nicolette, before walking over to leave the window open ajar and blowing out the only candle in the room. Through the now moonlit room, I could see her slowly close the door.

Giving it a few moments, I leaped into the room again making sure not to cause any sudden noises. I sat down on the edge of the bed, looking over Nicolette's sleeping figure. She looked so peaceful, so angelic, the way her face was partly lit by the moon outside. Carefully leaning over, I gently gazed the back of my other hand against her cheek.

For some reason, I was enjoying the simple comfort of being in her presence, whether or not she was fully aware of it.


	5. UPDATE

Hi everyone.

Just a quick update on things:

I'll be putting this story on hold for a bit until things have calmed down in my life.

A few days back, my seven year old sister has been constantly complaining about her knees hurting. We didn't pay it any mind until we noticed that she was starting getting red spots parts of her legs and arms, and her ankles were starting to swell a bit. After taking her to the hospital (where I am with her now), we found out that she has HSP (Henoch-Schonlein Purpura). * skin-problems-and-treatments/henoch-schonlein-purpura-causes-symptoms-treatment* for those curious as to what it is.

Elizabeth will be staying here for about a month, hopefully less. And I'll be here by her side the whole time.

So, yes there will be a lack in updates for a while. I'm sorry, but I really would rather give you guys a good one rather than posting a rushed and unedited one.

Thanks in advance for understanding guys.

- K


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